


to my dear da'len,

by rivainitea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, hi friendly reminder that samir is trans!, in this house we support transmasc ppl who choose to get pregnant :-]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivainitea/pseuds/rivainitea
Summary: “I see the same mercy I saw when you spared me. When you revived me. The same eyes who saw and still see something good in me. The eyes that make me believe I can be good again.”Zevran’s arms held his son dearly. His baby, his child, the best of him. His world.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	to my dear da'len,

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is EXTREMELY self indulgent. i am YEARNING so hard and i had to write this or else the zevran goblin inside my brain would not leave me alone!!!!!!! he still hasnt so!!!! pls enjoy!

“He has your eyes, you know?” 

He asks as if Samir already knew the answer. They are beautiful, he thinks. But it is Zevran we are speaking of, and he knows there is something deeper in those words. There always is. This is the man he fell in love with, his son’s father, after all. The man he is helplessly and safely in love with.

“My eyes?”

He asks, and knows flattery is coming. Zevran has the habit of complimenting him as if it were his only purpose. “You look marvelous, my sweet”, “You smell like a thousand lillies, my warden”, “You are an angel sent to bless my eyes, I’m sure of it”, “Common words cannot do your beauty justice. Perhaps I should recite more Antivan poetry?” so on and so forth. Zevran has often awoken thinking only of Samir and how to make sure he was loved.

“I see the same mercy I saw when you spared me. When you revived me. The same eyes who saw and still see something good in me. The eyes that make me believe I can be good again.”

Zevran’s arms held his son dearly. His baby, his child, the best of him. His world.

“The same amber eyes I love to see every morning.” He finishes his sentence, as his son’s tiny, weak, soft hands reached out to his pinky finger with trust. Trust, an interesting concept. One Zevran did not know could exist for and within him. “Only someone as gracious and precious as you could carry such a miracle,” He adds, and hears a weak, faint sob from Samir, who is watching him as if the Maker himself had appeared before him, and looks up to meet those sweet amber eyes tearing up.

“I could not have carried this miracle without the lovely man who blessed me with him,”

“Oh, aren’t we such poets? Antivan authors want what we have!”

They shared a chuckle, and how they delight in that sound. They did not know, however, how much more delightful their own son’s chuckle (that soon would turn into silly laughter) is.  
Until they heard it, looked at each other, and basked in the laughter as they softly cried together.

How could such a small, tiny creature bring you so much hope? So much strength? How could you love someone you barely know? How could you swear to do everything and anything for this… Small treasure you hold in your arms?

He has loved, and he loves, and is loving, and will love more. He has enjoyed, has cried, has suffered and tortured and been tortured, has sung, has drank, has humoured others. But this is his first time as a father. A dad. A loving one.

“I… Don’t think you doubt this of me. I’ve come to understand more with each day that you believe in the best within me. Or rather, that you know that I am good and can be good. But I must swear this nevertheless-”

“I have never doubted you, vhenan.”

“Oh, the charmer I fell in love with, no? I adore when you call me that.”

“Vhenan?”

“Yes, vhenan. I do not feel like I can say such a word, but I adore when you call me your heart. I feel alive, truly… And I must say I enjoy the feeling of being alive.”

So different were the words of the crow who handed his own life to a new grey warden in a silver platter, so different was the groan from the crow when he woke up, only to find himself alive. And how he despised the feeling of his own skin against the dirt, against burning rope and light cuts on his skin. Until the ember met his extinguished fire. 

Now Zevran could even call himself a cautious man. Do not misunderstand me, Samir and Zevran cannot lay low for too long. They are both devoted to danger and adventure, for they were born in the thrill of survival. But time has taught them that they can be a little careful every now and then. It can be fun!

“And I have to say that I enjoy being alive with you. And.. And our… da’len? This is what the Dalish call their children, yes?”

Such simple words broke Samir’s simple heart. To have someone learn small yet meaningful words to change your whole day, that was new to him. 

“Our..” His words sounded like a weak cry or a plea, but it was much more like manifesting your will into reality. “Our da’len, yes. It means ‘little one’ or ‘little child’. But you already know you don’t need to use elven words, Zev. You are an elf of the cities and I love that.”

“Yes, well. I’d like our son to be raised in the woods… For a while. I’d also like for him to know the world outside. The thrill, and all. Excitement, but also time in the forest, why not? A little dirt every now and then is nice for the skin! Which brings me back to what I wanted to say in the beginning.  
I promise you I will be present for all his birthdays, his best and worst days, his adventurous and boring days, his dangerous and safe days. I dislike promises I don’t know if I can keep, but I have to try. I will not allow him to be raised like I was. Not that you would ever allow such a thing, either. I simply need you to know that we are of one mind in this, as I’m sure you share my sentiment.”

“I could not ask for a better man. And I am sure he couldn’t ask for a better father, either.”

“Oh, but he has you!”  
“I am in no way better than you, my honey.” The warden slowly caressed his love’s cheeks, getting closer to him as he stared into his eyes, a meeting of the souls. “In my eyes-”

“Your delightful amber eyes?”

“Those, exactly those, yes. In my eyes, you are better than me in so many ways.”

A small sound, like a whine of confusion from a cub, coming from the little treasure in Zevran’s arms, followed by a wobbly smile, moved their attention to their son.

“What do you want to name him?”

“For such a merciful man, that is so cruel! You are leaving the naming part to me?”

“You are better at this than me! Besides, I am certain that if a handsome man like yourself names him, he ought to grow into a handsome man as well.”

“Hah! You almost sound like a Fereldan peasant. Alright, well, I cannot say I haven’t thought about any names. I have thought of a few, since… The sixth month of your pregnancy, I believe. But there is only one that stuck with me.”

“Well?”

“I… I want to name him ‘Yaevrin’. I was told that is what my mother wanted to call me, since she wanted to have me raised as one of the Dalish. Ultimately, whether he wants to call himself Dalish or not is up to him. But ‘Yaevrin’ is… “

“Beautiful. I don’t know the meaning of the name, but this only means we can make one ourselves. It’s beautiful, Zevran. Just like your name.”

“It does have a charming touch, does it not? Makes me think of a silver-tongued bard!”

“Oohh, I love that. Yaevrin, the silver-tongued bard, and his father Zevran, the assassin with a heart of gold.”

“How could you forget his other father, Samir, a reaver quick as lightning?”

“Yep. We definitely should write a book. Think about the coin?!” He seemed quite hilarious to his son, who burst into silly, lovely laughter, capturing his fathers’ hearts.

“And how are you feeling? Everything alright, mi amor? I imagine carrying a child inside you after a year of Blight and civil war cannot be easy. Have you had your tea yet?”

“Ha! You underestimate me, Zev. I am perfectly fine! My back hurts, but I believe such is the way of the cranky grey warden that I am. If an arch-demon comes spitting fire at me again, I’ll strike it down again!”  
“Of course you will! We are always victorious in the end.”

Zevran could never imagine how reassuring that was to Samir. If the world came crashing down on them, if the sky was torn open, he’d still have hope. Zevran was at his side, and Samir was at his. A dagger in one hand, and the other holding a baby. No matter how incredibly not threatening that is!


End file.
